Dark and Magnificent (Yogscast One-Shots)
by WannaPlayKevinBacon
Summary: Minecraftia is a deadly place, coiled and ready to strike like an ill-tempered viper. Those who walk it's crooked paths are tossed to a wind of ill will, violence, mania and terror. They must be ever vigilant, ever resilient. (Yogscast One-Shots: individual summaries/warnings for each chapter). Might contain slash, gore, cursing and horror.
1. I Fall Apart

Chapter 1: I Fall Apart

Lalna goes mad as the darkness of Yoglabs comes back to haunt him in flashes. Fleeing his new home, he brings a few old friends back to his castle, convinced that killing is the only way to retain his control, the more painful the better.

EXTREME VIOLENCE/GORE, cursing, mild sexual content, mild slash

A/N: This story was supposed to be third in this series but I sat down to write one tiny scene and the whole story came at once. My works are inspired by stories like those by Blackrock Soldier and Kelpurple90; check them out! Please review I need to know if this was any good as it's my first Yogfic! Thanks!

* * *

"Lalna! Look at the cat! It's in the bloody smeltery again!"

Lalna lifted his gaze toward the smeltery to see their pesky orange tabby perched on the edge, casually flicking it's tail inches from the molten materials inside. The scientist and his apprentice were working to rebuild their lives after having to abandon the castle, and things had been going well. Lalna had fallen for Nano, she had finally stopped blaming him daily and they'd gotten a cat, amid battles and experiments and arguments over construction and decorating. All in all-aside from an oft-suicidal cat, life had been quiet.

Lalna sighed and walked over, "This bloody cat," he muttered as he climbed up to the top rim of the smeltery, crawling along the black bricks toward the animal.

The cat looked at him with disinterest and suddenly jumped over Lalna, landing in the middle of his back before springing to the floor. The scientist cried out as he too went to the floor, face planting unceremoniously, "Lalna!" Nano cried, running to his side, "That was lucky. You could have died!"

"I didn't?" Lalna grumbled, sitting up and wiping blood from his busted nose and searching for his goggles that had been knocked away. He caught sight of his own blood and paused, staring as tiny drop after drop fell to his white coat, staining sterility with the dark red of life, unpredictable, chaotic, so exquisitely arousing and so, "Delicious."

"What? Are you alright?" Nano said as she heard the whisper, pulling away when he looked up at her, "Lalna, your eyes."

Lalna picked up his goggles and looked at his reflection within them, red eyes glowed back at him and he was smiling without even knowing it; his head was throbbing with an inexplicable pain. Blinking, he shook off the odd feeling and replaced his eyewear, "I'm alright. It's nothing," he said, standing.

Nano was on his heels as he left the room, "Are you sure? I can take a look at your nose," she offered, "You need some ice."

"I'm fine," Lalna half growled, his voice otherwise cold, "Just get back to work. I need to clean up this... mess."

His lab coat swept out around him as he rushed to the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind him. He turned on the water and threw off his stained coat, wiping the blood from his nose again. Catching sight of it yet again his body seized up, every ounce of his attention on the red smears on his hands. Suddenly, surprising even himself, he hungrily lapped the blood away, swallowing every ounce until his face and hands were a faded pink, cleaned painstakingly as a dog cleans an unattended plate.

Only when the blood was gone did Lalna look up at the mirror removing his goggles. His chest was heaving, his eyes were red and beneath the faded remnants of the blood he's sucked down, his face was flushed. Below the waist, his body had no qualms showing just how it felt, and his face burned with embarrassment. The tears of frustration came then as Lalna's eyes returned to normal and he wept, scrubbing his face and his hands with the hottest water the tap would provide.

A quiet knock interrupted his self-loathing and a quiet voice came from the other side of the wood, "I brought you a towel."

Lalna wiped his eyes and replaced his goggles, opening the door, "Thank you."

Nano smiled, "You cleaned up well... can't say the same for your coat." She handed him the towel and went to pick it up.

"Leave it," the scientist said, "I'll throw it out. I've got another one."

"You've got a closet full, haven't you?" Nano teased, "I'm going to check on the farm. Don't forget to put ice on that nose."

Lalna nodded drying his face and hands with the towel, "I won't, now go on before it gets dark."

When she had gone, Lalna picked up the lab coat and stared at the stain, a tickle in the back of his mind manifesting. 'Keep it. Keep it and tonight when Nano goes to bed you can take it out and-' Lalna threw the coat to the floor and clapped his hands over his ears, "Stop it!" he growled, "Get the fuck out of my head!"

His head ached but the thoughts were gone-for now. He picked up the coat, took it up the stairs and jammed it under his mattress, his hands shaking as he left the room. A presence was seeping in around the edges of his mind. It wasn't the purple of the taint, but the startling red of insanity. Lalna would have to regain control, of himself and whatever was inside of him.

* * *

SipsCo Dirt Factory was singing with efficiency, machines churning and redstone humming, the one and only employee lay tanning beside the company pool, where he spent most of his lonely days, and his complexion showed absolutely no change for all of the abuse it took. When Sips heard footsteps scraping the stone, he sighed, "You dumb babby, you'd better not be tracking that shitty farm dirt in here."

"Hello, Sips."

The gray man looked up, removing his sunglasses, "Lalna, you big bitch what are you doing here?"

The scientist smiled, eyes hidden behind his goggles but Sips still felt a chill when they fell upon him, "I'm just here for a visit."

"I hate visitors," Sips muttered, standing up as he tried to ignore the creeping sensation that told him something was off.

"Sjin sent me to pick up some of his things," Lalna said, "This is my last stop."

Sips grit his teeth, "If he left it here it's SipsCo property, not his personal goddamn treasure. Get the hell out of here Lalna I'm not in the mood."

"Sips," Lalna said, but the man was already on his way, storming off.

Sips marched toward the closest building, planning to slam the door in Lalna's face. He glanced back to see if the blond man was following but what he saw made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, "Aw shi-" was all he managed before darkness took him.

From the nearby trees Nano watched Lalna catch up to Sips and knock him out, picking him up with a look of grim determination and carry him away. She was careful to keep pace, having followed him all the way from their compound as he captured Xephos, Honeydew, Sjin and now Sips. Sips had been the easiest of course, the one with the least battle experience and still reeling from Sjin's absence.

Xephos had put up a vicious fight and once the violence ended, she'd watched in horror as Lalna knelt to lick the blood from his friend's neck and face, then suddenly-as if realizing-he'd jumped to his feet and spat blood and curses all over the unconscious spaceman. It was the same each time, sampling blood here and there, giggling, crying, shouting as he dragged victim after victim away. Nano had found herself hoping that someone, anyone would stop her mentor, fix whatever was wrong or destroy whatever had ahold of him.

When they came to the ruined castle Nano watched him go inside with his haul, using magic to levitate them inside and avoid the tainted ground. She followed him inside and down to the basement which had been cobbled together into some sort of dungeon, glassed-in rooms lined the walls. As Lalna busied himself, Nano explored the darkness, room after room, trying to find a way to rescue the others. The final room she came to was the largest. Vats of colorful liquid bubbled quietly along one wall and a metal surgery table gleamed in the sterile lights. Nano didn't hear the footsteps behind her or even really feel the blow that brought her down, "Damn it," Lalna muttered as he lifted her body and strapped her to the table, "I didn't want it to be you."

* * *

Xephos came to in his white, buzzing room and tried to lift his hand to touch his throbbing head but found it strapped down, memories returning, "La...Lalna?"

"I'm here old friend," came a voice from behind him.

A soft scraping noise that tickled Xephos' ears wouldn't seem to stop, "What is this? Where are we?"

"You're safe," Lalna said, "Well, I can't lie to you. You aren't safe, but you aren't going anywhere. If you stand up you might just spill it, and we cannot have that, not until I'm done."

Xephos suddenly laughed loudly, then his eyes went wide with fear, "Lalna? What are you doing to me?"

"Would you like to see?"

Xephos swallowed, his chest tight, "Please."

Lalna swung Xephos' chair around to face him and the two way glass behind them in it, Xephos saw his reflection. Lalna moved around behind him, small dull needle in hand and he poked it once again into Xephos' exposed brain, eliciting another laugh, "Don't you like it? It's just like what you did to me, poking and prodding, bringing out all of the bad parts. I wonder what's hiding in here." Lalna giggled, "Oh wait, no I don't. I know everything about what's in here, where you keep your memories, what can make you laugh and cry, piss yourself in fear. I can do it all, Xephos."

Xephos squeezed his eyes closed, "Why?"

"Because I have to draw him out where I can defeat him. I have to prove I can control myself. I control everything."

"Is Honeydew here? Have you hurt him?" Xephos asked, unable to disguise the panic in his voice.

"Oh I'm afraid so," Lalna cooed in his ear, "I pulled out all of his little Dwarven insides and I showed him every one, what it was all for. He never did like learning. He wouldn't pay any attention, just kept screaming for you, 'Oh Xephos Xephos please help me! I need you! Help help!' He was like a child."

Lalna laughed loudly and then poked into Xephos' brain, making him laugh as well, a loud outburst that turned into sobs, "Oh please no! Please stop! Stop this and let me go!"

Lalna stopped laughing after the screams, "Very well," he said, kissing Xephos' cheek, "I'll come back later when you're in the mood."

Xephos' hands curled into shaky fists, "No! Stop! Come back! LALNA!"

The screams echoed down the hall and Lalna felt them in his chest, "I'm waiting for you, you bastard," he muttered to himself, "And when you rear your ugly little head, I'll stomp you out of me."

* * *

"Nano? Nano wake up."

Nano opened her eyes, looking up into Lalna's face. He was smiling kindly and for a moment she forgot the past few days, "Is it morning?" she asked, sleepily returning his smile but it faded quickly as she realized she couldn't move.

"Shh," Lalna whispered, "That doesn't matter." He stroked her hair, trying to sooth and comfort her as the dagger in his right hand moved closer to her face, "I'm taking the pain away. I'm taking the Flux away."

Nano began to shake, "Lalna stop," she said, "Stop it! Get off of me!"

The blade bit into her face and she screamed, trying to kick her feet, trying to shake her head, anything, "It's going to be ok," Lalna said, tears forming in his green eyes. His goggles were on his forehead, but as he begin to cry in earnest, he moved them down over his eyes. The blade danced a pattern around Nano's face, cutting around the purple skin. He took hold and began to pull, slipping the scalpel beneath the skin so it lifted away with relative ease, "I love you."

Nano was panting and weeping, unable to do more as she lost her voice from the screams. Suddenly, the blade rose and plunged into her eye, scraping against the socket with a loud sickening sound not unlike the sawing and slicing that had echoed in Xephos' open skull. Nano was going into shock, fading away from the incredible pain as her eye was scooped out. She watched with her tear-blurred left eye as Lalna lifted the flesh he's taken and dropped it into the vat of yellow liquid. It hissed and bubbled and began to dissolve. She whimpered, feeling nauseous and heavy, closing her eye.

Seconds later she felt a stinging pressure and then a burning in her chest. She gasped as the pain, the sadness, the awareness all rushed back, "Don't go," Lalna said, putting the syringe aside, "I want you to feel it leave, to feel the Flux go."

Nano looked down at her arms as best she could and started to cry all over again, "Oh no," she pleaded, "Please Lalna stop."

Lalna made thin, surgical cuts into her arm, so quick and careful that they barely hurt. She wondered if she felt little pain because she was dying. Blood was pouring out of her, but as Lalna went, he cauterized the wounds. He wanted her alive, just plain wanted her. The pain came back all too real when he began sawing into the bones. Nano screamed painfully, her throat raw and torn but she still screamed and sobbed. By the time it was done, Lalna's sobs matched her own in volume and he could barely see to take the arms to the vat, dropping them in. Nano fell silent behind him and he wondered if the Flux's absence was a comfort, "Do you feel it?" he whispered, turning around.

No response, just an open, staring eye, accusatory, fearful, sad. Lalna stepped forward and unstrapped her lifting her into his arms. He shook her, checked her pulse, tried CPR, but he failed. Still holding her, Lalna fell to his knees, tearing off his goggles. His mournful screams tore through the darkness, waking his final two victims. Deeper in the shadows of his mind, his one very determined enemy stirred as well.

* * *

Sjin woke with a start when he heard screaming, memories rushing back of Lalna's betrayal. Now he was strapped into a chair, and his beard and mustache had been shaved off, "Lalna!" he shouted, "This isn't..." His annoyed voice trailed off as he noticed the room beyond the glass wall of his own, the chair identical to his, "...funny."

Sips stared back at him, bewildered and worried. Sjin couldn't hear the man but he could easily see. He struggled against the restraints but Sips assured him-silently-that he was alright. Above the gray man's head swung a large glass box. It was empty, with a neck hole in the bottom and opening at the top to an odd metal chute, currently closed. Sips studied it, not noticing at first when Lalna stepped into Sjin's room, "You're awake," he said coldly, but Sjin heard him sniffle and wondered if there were tears behind the man's dark goggles.

"What's going on?" Sjin said, "Is this some kind of prank?"

"No, old friend," Lalna said, his hands fiddling with wires that came from the ceiling, "This is terribly serious."

Sjin glanced at Sips who looked livid, red rising in his cheeks as he shouted silently at Lalna's back through the glass. Sjin saw the man's lips from the words 'Get away from him', "What are you doing?" Sjin asked Lalna then, wishing he sounded braver.

Lalna turned and began placing small adhesive electrodes on Sjin's body, tearing clothes out of the way as he went. Sjin looked once again to his old partner who's lips were cursing a blue streak, and then the farmer cried out in pain as the shocks started. Lalna watched Sips as he shocked Sjin each time Sips yelled. After a moment, Sips stopped to catch his breath and the shocks did as well. Sips looked between Lalna and Sjin, his face red. He took a breath and opened his mouth. Another shock, another cry of pain. Sips snapped his mouth shut and Lalna grinned, "There we go," he said jovially, "Quiet begets quiet."

Sjin was trembling, his muscles exhausted by the shocks and the pain. He closed his eyes as Lalna pulled a thick white curtain closed between the two rooms, "Lalna," he started softly.

"I don't want to share all of our fun," Lalna said, "Do you? Ole Sipsy will have to wait his turn after all."

Then Lalna took off his ruined coat and the dark shirt beneath, straddling his quarry in the large metal chair. He lifted his goggles then and his eyes were indeed swollen from crying, "What now?" Sjin asked breathlessly.

Lalna kisses him then, a frighteningly affectionate gesture which soon turned aggressive and forceful. Lalna reached for a scalpel from the nearby tray and made a small cut from Sjin's bottom lip down his chin. He licked the blood away with a tiny moan. When their eyes met again, Lalna's were deep red instead of green, stained the same color as his bloodied lips. He kissed Sjin again, making another cut, licking up more blood, over and over again until he seemed sated and Sjin's face burned, "Enderborn," Lalna said as he stood up, "Now I have you here too. I'll taste you and prove my control."

Lalna grabbed Sjin's marred chin and forced another kiss upon him; the farmer refused to cry as Lalna carved into him more, both physically and emotionally, scarring his face with the scalpel and scarring his heart with wandering hands and a wicked tongue, breaking his dark kisses just long enough to mutter taunts to Rythian. The Mage-as far as Sjin knew-was nowhere nearby but still the scientist taunted and still the farmer held his resolve.

* * *

Sips was ready when Lalna entered the room, "You bastard," he spat, "What the hell did you do?"

Lalna looked to where Sjin was sleeping off their violent encounter, his lower face scarred in an intricate pattern, "He couldn't keep his hands off of me," he mused, "Or he wouldn't have been able to if he wasn't strapped down anyway."

Sips lunged forward against the restraints, shaking the chair with his effort but it was bolted to the floor and the restraints held firm, "You son of a bitch."

"You've always got something mean to say," Lalna said, "To everyone. I think I can help by cutting out that filthy little tongue of yours."

Lalna grabbed Sips' chin, forcing his mouth open. Sips struggled, managing to escape Lalna's grip and sink his teeth into the scientist's hand. Lalna pulled back, looking at his bleeding hand. Mesmerized for a moment, he leaned in to suck the blood bubbling up from the wounds, licking his hand clean, "What the fuck?" the gray man muttered.

Lalna looked up to see Sips staring at him in a surprised disgust. Rage boiled over inside of the scientist and he tossed the scalpel aside. His fist connected with the gray man's jaw and stars exploded behind Sips' eyes. Again and again he struck him harder and harder until Sips felt-and heard-the bones of his jaw snap and let loose.

Sips felt himself losing consciousness, but a sharp slap brought him back. His eyes burned and watered as he looked once again at his attacker. Lalna was grinning behind his dark goggles; after a bit of admiration for his handy work, he rummaged through one of the drawers lining the back wall.

Lalna grabbed Sips' chin and the gray man groaned in pain as the firm grip forced his broken jaw back into place. Then, a new pain jabbed into his cheek as Lalna laced the thick wire he'd found around the broken bones, fusing the jaw back together in a slipshod fashion. He continued all the way around his mouth to the opposite side jaw, achieving the quiet he had wanted all along, and then he reached up to pull the glass box down over Sips' head firmly and lock it into place.

Blood streaked down Sips' neck from his facial wounds as the glass slid over his head. He growled behind his closed lips and struggled. With the push of a button, loose sandy dirt tumbled into the box from above, just a bit at a time, like an hourglass. Sips struggled to pull his head free, break the glass against the chair, loosen it around his neck, anything, but his efforts went unrewarded.

Lalna smiled and left the room, returning to Sjin. He admired the sleeping man, tracing the cuts with his eyes before he brought his hand across Sjin's cheek, the slap resounding in the room and waking the man. Sjin woke with a start, staring up at his captor, "Lal-"

"Shut up," the man snapped, back handing him violently, "Don't use your mind games on me, Rythian. I'm no fool. I know you want revenge. Well you should have let sleeping dogs lie. Now I've got you and your precious lover trapped and I'm going to make you watch her die!"

Lalna hit Sjin again and again, bloodying his nose. Sjin looked over into the neighboring room where Sips was struggling for his life, the dirt level just under his nose in the box. Soon he wouldn't be able to breathe. His wide eyes met Sjin's and he squeezed them closed. Sjin bit his lip to keep from crying and jumped when suddenly Lalna's hand was in his view, "Look what that bitch did to me. Is that how you taught Zoeya? To be a wild animal? Don't worry about that. I'm having her put down."

Sjin looked away from Lalna's hand, trying not to smile, not to spit in his face. That's what Sips would do-clearly-and Lalna was clearly insane or possessed, convinced that he and Sips were Rythian and Zoeya, so that wouldn't help. Sjin kept his emotions in check as he was unstrapped and thrown to the ground, Lalna's black boot connecting with his ribs, his back, his face. Sjin balled himself up as best he could and waited through the beating.

Suddenly screams echoed through the hall, deep and urgent. Sjin recognized Xephos' voice, "Ridge! Ridge help me! We need your help! It's Lalna! Help us!"

Lalna cursed and took off down the hall, slamming into Xephos room where the man was shouting prayers to his demigod, "Shut up! Ridge isn't coming! Nobody is coming!"

Xephos spat in Lalna's face and then continued his screaming, forcing the scientist to run out again. This time he travelled to the larger room, ignoring Nano's body as he scooped a beaker full of the yellow liquid from the bubbling vat, using the gloved hand that Sips hadn't bitten into. The acid hissed on the black material but didn't eat through as the blond stormed back into the room with the spaceman.

Xephos was mid-shout when Lalna approached and he fell silent when a drop of acid fell onto his hand, burning quietly into his skin, "Lalna," he pleaded softly, "If you let me go, we'll go to the lab, we'll fix you. I can help. I swear I'll help."

Lalna let out a roar of anger, "The lab?! Your fucking torture house?! You think I'm going there with you? No." The man regained his composure, "Never again."

Xephos whimpered as Lalna tipped the beaker of acid down onto his brain, filling his skull. The pain was immense, and then there was none. Xephos seized, foam at his lips, and then there was nothing. A crash of thunder sounded and Lalna shivered as he heard Ridge's screams in the storm.

* * *

Sjin tossed a chair through the glass divider just as Sips' crying eyes disappeared in the falling dirt. He tried to remove the box but it was tight in place. With a cry of frustration, Sjin pulled one of the drawers out of the wall and slammed it against the box, shattering the glass. Sips gagged and coughed in his throat, snorting out the dirt from his nose as he desperately struggled to breathe again. Tears streaked mud down his cheeks as Sjin removed the broken box, "Are you alright?"

Sips struggled against the restraints and Sjin freed him with the scalpel meant for his tongue then they embraced. They were beaten, mutilated, scarred, suffocated, but they were alive-and they had to leave. Sjin took Sips' hand and they raced down the hall past rooms full of their dead friends, up the stairs. The Taint surrounding the castle blocked off all of the doors and forced them up and up until the only exit untainted was to the roof, out into Ridge's storm of fury.

Lalna was pacing madly along the ruined stones as rain poured down over them, washing away the dirt, sweat, blood and Honeydew's insides from Lalna's coat, "It isn't working. Nothing is working," he muttered, "I've done everything and I've failed."

"Lalna..." Sjin took a small step forward but Sips grabbed his wrist firmly, holding him in place.

If the scientist was bothered by their escape, he gave no indication, he only continued to mutter, "I've done it all. I've destroyed it all. I've relived it and stroked my ego. It's all down there, Rythian, YogLabs, the Flux. I've destroyed them all, even a few extras." He stopped and smiled then at Sjin and Sips, "I've done it all and he's made me into him. If he can turn me to him then I can turn him back into myself. If I kill the real me then the false me becomes real. He has to."

Sjin and Sips stared back at Lalna, both of them overwhelmed with fear, anger, sadness, pain, relief and guilt. Lalna took a step back and went over the edge. Sjin darted forward, Sips letting out a grunt of surprise as he followed, watching their former friend fall toward the ground. Suddenly the plummet turned into a glide and Lalna took off, his flying ring clutched in his hand as he darted off toward the Labs through the storm and left the two survivors to pick up the pieces.

Sjin glanced sideways at Sips. The man's gray face-though partially washed by the rain-was still marred by mud, blood and wire, "We'd better get you fixed up."

Sips touched Sjin's cheek, careful to avoid the carvings Lalna had put there. That small action, wordless and warm, brought Sjin's walls down and tears began to form as he leaned his forehead against the other man's, finally letting go.


	2. A Game of Murder

Sips, Trottimus, Alsmiffy, Djh3max and Turpster enter into a game of bloodsport Roulette that becomes all too real when Ridge gets carried away.

A/N: Ok so this is technically based off of Garry's Mod but I will be setting it in Minecraftia. This one isn't quite as dark at the first one, and it's broken up by humor.

A little gore, some violence and plenty of cursing.

* * *

Ridge was floating at his balcony, arms folded when his visitors finally reached his mansion, "Holy shit I should have ridden one of you up here," Sips panted.

"Well sorry mate, forgot my saddle didn't I?" Trottimus muttered as Alsmiffy helped him up the last step. Behind them Djh3max kept up the rear.

Sips squinted and looked at them, "Aw damnit where is Turpster?!" He walked over and looked down, "You big dumb babby, get up here!"

Turpster struggled up, taking Sips' hand gratefully, "I think I'm dying."

"Turpster you're lazier than I am," Sips said, obviously impressed, "And that is the highest compliment I can pay anyone that isn't me."

"Thanks Sips I can die happy."

"If it isn't the Magnificent Bastard and his four little pets," Ridge said as he grew tired of waiting for the mortals to catch their breath, "What do you want?" he asked impatiently.

"We want to play a game," Alsmiffy said, "Something we've never done before. Come on Ridge you can do that can't you?"

"I can do anything I want," Ridge replied, "What kind of game?"

"Something with action!" Djh3max said.

"And puzzles," Trottimus added.

"And that gives me an advantage," Sips called from where he and Turpster were standing.

"Physicality, intrigue, novelty and a cheat for Sips," Ridge muttered, "Anything else to add to your honey do list?"

"What's Honeydew got to do with this?" Alsmiffy asked.

Ridge rolled his eyes and suddenly all five fell unconscious on his balcony, "I need to hire a maid," he said, looking at the limp bodies.

* * *

Djh3max awoke in a dark room, rubbing his eyes as they focused. He looked down to see a large, hooked knife in his hand. Instinctively, he sheathed the blade and hid it in the back of his pants, "Hello?" he called softly, his eyes flickering black for a moment as he smiled, leaving the room.

He tracked some footprints in the dust for a while, exploring the old mansion he'd never been in before. After a while, though, he started to feel a nagging in his mind, an inexplicable bloodlust, an itching to use his new knife, "Who wants to eat shit?" he muttered in the dark.

Alsmiffy jumped as he heard a scream over his shoulder, "Why?!" he hissed at Trottimus.

"We'll excuse me if my mortal terror is bothering you," Trottimus snapped, "This place is... well... terrifying."

"Just stay quiet and try not to give me a heart attack," Alsmiffy said, trying to be patient, "I thought this was supposed to be a fun game."

"Maybe we aren't playing it right."

Alsmiffy chuckled, "Maybe," he said, freezing when he heard footsteps, "Shh."

Trottimus clung tighter to Alsmiffy as he started backing up, slipping into a room and kneeling in the shadows, pulling Trottimus with him. They held their breath as someone else entered the room, making no noise except for ragged, excited breathing. After a moment the sounds stopped and all was silent. Out in the hallway, a familiar voice called, "Hello?"

Alsmiffy sighed in relief and stood up, "It's you!" he said happily as he walked out to meet his friend, "This place is creepy as fuck, mate!"

"Yeah I only just found the stairs, woke up in the attic," Djh3max said, "Are the others here?"

Alsmiffy looked over his shoulder down the hall, "Oh, Trott is-" feeling a sharp pain, he looked down and see the knife in his stomach.

Djh3max looked down shocked as his friend's hot blood gushed out over his hand, "I..."

A fine must of blood sprayed across the murderer's face as his friend tried to speak, then collapsed, leaving the blood soaked knife behind in Djh3max's hand. Alsmiffy coughed one more time and then died, a bloodied mess. The feeling that washed over the murderer was almost unbearably euphoric. He had to feel it again. Kneeling down and wiping his knife clean on the corpse's pant leg, he started his hunt in earnest, "Heeere little Trotty," he cooed, creeping down the hallway.

In his safe spot, Trottimus covered his mouth and squeezed his eyes closed to hold in a scream as he saw the murderer pass, their friend's blood streaking his face. As his footsteps echoed away finally into comforting silence, the lights flipped on, and Trottimus ran for a safer hiding place.

* * *

"See you big bitch? With just a little bit of goddamn finesse you can make any situation better," Sips said as he turned away from the breaker box with a self-satisfied smirk.

"Yes that's you, Sips, the constant optimist, a ray of gray sunshine," Turpster muttered.

Sips brandished the pistol he'd woken up with, "Who needs optimism when they're packing serious heat?"

Turpster shook his head, "I can't believe Ridge actually gave you a gun."

"Ask and you shall receive," Sips said, "If you ask the right person because you're not getting shit off of me."

"Just point that gun at whatever's gonna end up trying to kill us and that's all I want," Turpster said as they reached the base of a large stairwell, "I just hope that great bow arm of yours translates to guns."

"Fair enough," Sips said, "Wowoweeewa this place really is a shithole isn't it?"

Turpster nodded but was quiet as they mounted the stairs, sticking closer than usual as the atmosphere changed, becoming more unsettling despite the lights. Step by step, they reached the upper floor, dimmer than the ground floor with a few years more worth of dust, it seemed. The floorboards creaked loudly beneath their feet and Sips started to notice small black dots on the floor. He watched as they grew and turned red as the men advanced, turning into obvious blood droplets, then spatter, then, "Oh shit it's Alsmiffy!" Turpster whispered.

Their friend was very clearly dead, dark blood covered his abdomen and seeped from his mouth, forming two puddles beneath his lifeless body. Sips' hand holding the gun started to shake, "I don't want to play anymore."

"I'm not sure this is a game," Turpster said.

Suddenly a scream sounded from beneath them. The men ran to the banister to see Trottimus running with Djh3max on his heels. Just out of sight, there was a terrible sound choked off into a gurgle and wild screaming of, "Eat shit! Eat shit! Eat shit!" each time punctuated by the wet sound of steel biting into flesh.

Turpster clapped his hand over his mouth and then turned to vomit on the floor. Sips kept his eyes locked on the spot where they'd disappeared, his body freezing when the murderer stepped back into view. His teeth flashed an insane white grin against his red-smeared face and he disappeared again, "Shit we gotta go," Sips said, grabbing Turpster and dragging him toward the attic stairs.

* * *

"We're gonna die," Turpster whined, sitting on the floor of the attic.

Sips had jammed the gun into his waistband and was building a barricade, stacking dressers and boxes and lamps onto the two trapdoors leading downstairs. Sweat beaded on his forehead and he kept thinking of Djh3max's face, covered in blood with that huge, shark-like grin that didn't quite reach his eyes, "Just get the hell up and help me," he snapped, dropping an ottoman on top of a box labelled 'hats'.

Turpster stood and began helping, "I can't believe they're dead. He killed them."

"Maybe asking a crazy fucking demigod for a fun time isn't as smart as it sounded when I came up with it."

"Alsmiffy came up with it," Turpster reminded him.

"Good lets go with that," Sips said, finally collapsing to rest on the floor, satisfied they were safe.

Turpster was quiet for a moment after sitting next to Sips, "You're gonna have to kill him."

"I know."

"Can you?" Turpster asked.

"Yeah I think so." Sips looked at the gun, clicking the safety off, "I think it's the only way any of us is getting out of here."

"I don't want to die."

Sips looked at his friend and sighed. "Me either," was all he could say. He couldn't promise Turpster safety or protection, not now.

"If I do die, just make sure you get the bastard," Turpster said.

"Are you kidding? I'm gonna ice this mother fucker," Sips chuckled, but inside he felt sick.

"Well there's not much to do but wait now," Turpster said, "I'll try to make sure you get a good shot."

"You know," Sips said, "It's not a bad way to go, shitting my pants in a dark dirty attic with my best friend."

Turpster smiled, knowing it was his friend's goodbye, "You too, asshole."

The warm moment was cut short as banging sounded on the other side of the barricade. Slowly, their defenses were knocked away and Djh3max emerged into the room. Turpster met him, grabbing his wrist to keep him busy. They tussled for a moment before Turpster lost his grip and the knife was buried into his chest, "Eat shit!" Djh3max cried triumphantly.

Turpster gasped and stumbled back, falling down and looking at Sips as he died, his chest slowing and stopping.

Sips quickly aimed the gun as Djh3max retrieved his knife and stalked forward. The gray man closed his eyes, "Please," he whispered, and pulled the trigger.


	3. Last Straw

Rythian calls on his darkest magic to seek out his revenge.

Gore, violence, slash, angst, adult content

* * *

"SipsCo, you've grown," Rythian muttered as he looked over the compound from cover of darkness, floating far out of reach of any skeleton's arrows. He flew into the compound, looking for revenge, and he found Sips, laying outside of his office, snoring with a bottle in his hand. The Enderborn rolled his eyes, "Sjin must still be at the farm if this pity party is any indication."

The Mage stood over the sleeping form, the garbled whispers in his mind began to form an idea and his annoyed scowl turned into a pleased smirk as he turned and ascended out of the compound, his eyes glowing.

Sjin's farm was darker than the factory, quiet save for croaks and chirps of various wildlife; Rythian landed silently on the grass and bounded up the stairs of Sjin's home, slipping in easily.

Sjin was sound asleep, not engaging in the loud drunken snoring of his charming ex boss. Rythian looked down at the farmer coldly, his eyes becoming slits. He unwrapped the scarf from his face as blackness crawled over it in a glittering cloud, "Sjin," he muttered, leaning forward on the mattress. The darkness spread down is body and from his hands to the bed, crawling across the sheets and spreading over Sjin, "Go to him," Rythian said, his eyes glowing brightly, "Make things right again and then feel my pain."

Sjin stirred, muttering a submissive response before the darkness around him sank in, beneath his tanned skin. Rythian replaced his scarf as the magic in him bled down to a safe level and he left the farmhouse, a smirk on his face as he took off, flying through the dying night.

* * *

Sips woke up as the sun was high, glaring down onto his face, "Oh fuck you sun you big son of a bitch," he growled, managing to stand.

The hungover man stumbled inside, turning on the sink and splashing cold water on his face. When he rose and looked into the mirror, an extra reflection startled him, "Sips."

Sips turned around quickly and clutched his heart, "Jesus you scared the hell out of me Sjin!" he wheezed.

Sjin smiled, "I'm sorry."

"Well what the hell are you doing here? What about your farm?"

"It's not where I belong," Sjin said, "I belong here. I'm sorry. I never should have left."

"Yeah right," the gray man grumbled, walking around Sjin and leaving the bathroom.

Sjin followed on his heels, "I'm back, Sips, back for good."

Sips turned to face Sjin, raising an eyebrow, "Just like that? Well... what makes you think I want you back here?"

"You don't?" Sjin asked.

"I didn't say that either you big dumb dumb," Sips said, "I just don't want you to think you can come crawling back and expect everything to be hunky-dorey. I'm pretty sure the factory was running better without you."

"You know the whole thing is shut down right?"

"That's what all that goddamn noise was last week," Sips said to himself.

Sjin smiled adoringly and when Sips caught the expression, he scowled darkly, "Sips, I love you," Sjin said suddenly, stepping forward and hugging the man tightly.

Sips froze, "Am I still drunk?" He asked before Sjin kissed him. His tired eyes rolled back in his head before he closed them, "Nevermind I don't care," he muttered against Sjin's lips.

* * *

Sjin woke up first the next morning, blinking in the sun that filtered into the room. The day before was a blur of afternoon, evening, night, skin, sweat and whispered words. He looked at the man who slept beside him, more soundly and more quietly than he'd ever seen Sips sleep; this really was where he belonged. Sips wasn't sure yet, still distrustful, still suspicious-not unusual for Sips, truth be told, but Sjin knew that soon he too would realize and everything would be really, truly perfect.

As his love slept on, Sjin slipped out of bed and dressed, stepping out onto the compound. He found an open spot of ground and started digging, breaking ground. He worked until the sun shone high over his head and sweat made his clothes stick to his back. The large rectangle of loose earth reminded him of farmland, and his thoughts started to wander toward all of the things he could do to Sips in the dirt, heat spreading through his face.

As if on cue, footsteps approached, "You ran off before you could cook me breakfast," Sips said behind him, stretching, "What are you doing out here anyway?"

Sjin blushed, "Just... farmland, I thought a small plot here would be nice-for us."

Sips looked at the dirt grouchily, "Well I guess if it doesn't cut into your real work."

"Only on the days few and far between where things go right," Sjin promised, "Or we could... test it out now."

"Test it out?" Sips asked.

Sjin turned to him then, bright eyes gleaming, and fell on him like a wild animal.

* * *

It felt like long hours and short seconds all at once. Their lips had met and then the still new sensation of tangled bodies and half-formed words and phrases that crumbled into incoherence. The sounds that Sips made echoed through the compound, unlike anything Sjin had ever heard, burning his ears and quickening his already frantic heartbeat. The farmer's new insistent sexuality put Sips into a more vulnerable state then the gray man liked and when he finally came out of the physical high, panting and sweating beside the other man in the dirt, he stammered a bit before the usually easy words would form, "Y'know I thought dirt sex would be one of my kinks," he muttered, "But having dirt in the crack of your ass is only about as fun as having beach sand in there."

Sjin giggled and balance was restored, Sips acting and Sjin reacting, instead of the other way around. Sips propped himself up on his elbows and Sjin watched him, silhouetted against the sun that had dipped quite a bit lower while they were otherwise occupied. The man's expression was settled into a soft frown, nothing like his usual unforgiving scowls, wicked grins, haughty smugness, hysterical laughter. Sips' expressions were never soft, and his every thought generally rolled down and out of his mouth unencumbered wrapped in a heavy cloak of obscenity, but now he was thinking. The idea that such thoughts were focused on him made Sjin giddy, among other things, but he decided to rescue his companion from his mental sinkhole, "Sips-"

"You're staying then," Sips interrupted, still not meeting his gaze, "For good?"

"Forever," Sjin vowed, "For the rest of our lives."

Sips seemed satisfied with the answer although he didn't say so, simply settling back down at Sjin's side. Sjin traced his fingertips over his companion's arm, lost in such a small affection that seemed as foreign as flying somehow, "I guess I love you then," Sips said flatly.

Sjin felt warmth bloom in his chest at the simple words that meant more than anything to him, but it was chased by something else, something strange. Sjin felt a burning in his hand and he sat up, looking as liquid shadows gathered, twining around his fingers, down his palm and knitting together more and more solid until they formed a blade. His hand closed involuntarily around it.

Sips let out a heavy grunt at the first sudden plunge of the blade into his chest, like a man does when he's gotten the wind knocked from him. The second struck his heart and he was quieted. Sjin moved closer, his eyes opaque and black as he brought the weapon down a dozen more times until the hollow, heavy sound filled his ears.

* * *

Sjin stood in the shower, hot water washing away blood, dirt, sweat and the blackness planted there nights ago. As the last dark tendril flowed down the drain, the farmer gasped and it returned in flashes. Killing Sips, kicking his ruined body into the grave he's been digging all day, covering him with dirt and then practically floating to the shower, his mind singing with sharp nothingness.

A quiet little scream rushed up from deep in Sjin's chest and he burst out of the shower, his wet feet slipping on the cold tiles as he scrambled to the door, adrenaline and nothing else keeping him upright. He ripped the door open and ran to the spot where they'd been, hoping praying wishing, but there it was, a mound of earth fresh and sweet smelling, standing out between their discarded tools and shed uniforms, stark and white in the darkness. Sjin fell to his knees, his hands slamming over his ears as panic tore up through his body like a rocket and he gave way to hysterical shrieks in the moonlight.

Not so far away, the land shook with hysterical laughter, more powerful than any scream as Rythian went mad riding the climax of his bloodied vengeance.


	4. Devil in the Details

A nice little stream of consciousness blurb about Lalna.

No warnings really apply to this one save for a single instance of cursing. Enjoy!

* * *

Yoglabs, such a jaunty little name for hell on Earth.

He has little idea where he is when he first wakes up, blinking and shaking, but it comes back piece by tiny piece. '_Drink your potion_' and he does. _'Check your vitals_' and he does. "Lalna," he mutters into the mirror, "Your name is Lalna." _Always Lalna._ _Never Livid. Never Lalnable_. "Lalna," he croaks again into the mirror tiredly, his eyes rimmed black with exhaustion as he stares himself down.

Then it is simpler. Showering, dressing, what little grooming he's ever done and another quick assurance into the mirror.

There are two sets of doors, two codes. Does he know them? Not today. So he stares at the tiny black box, pulling his goggles down to his eyes so that when Xephos comes to his rescue he won't see all of the frustration there, the fear, the confusion.

He is smiling, as usual, but it isn't the patient, sympathetic smile that Lalna hates. It is real, cheery even as he types in the door codes and they slide open with the small hiss of shifting air pressure, "Good morning, Lalna."

Lalna returns the smile as he follows his friend, to wherever there is work to be done, and then after hours in stupor, the cloud starts to sparkle and shift and fade, retreating from his mind. It comes pouring back. His fingers dance over tools and wires, tap on keys like lightning.

Enter this code. Splice this sequence. Hang this tubing. Insert this needle.

Then he's back with the afternoon tea, steam rising from the shitty office supply store paper cup through its plastic vented lid, "Fuck off," he mutters, "I don't want the bleeding tea."

The vein on Xephos' neck is up, and Lalna can see the blood pounding through, almost feel the fluttering beats that carry life to his brain, to his extremities, to his cheeks when they flush. Lalna licks his lips. _Why_?

Xephos sets the cup in front of him, "Drink your tea."

It's the same flat voice that nudges him in the morning, that suggests the potion, reminds him of the date, that feeds him his name. _Lalna Lalna Lalna_.

He drinks the tea.

Then the clarity, the sharp edge of his mind, the **keenness** of him spirals away down a drain back deep inside him. With it goes the blood and the anger and he's left swallowing his burning identity away with the hot tea.

The experiments go on, needles and splicing and codes and tubing, but Lalna is in the chair now, his hands shaking, his teeth clenching, his eyes spilling tears. He can almost decipher what is being done, but dullness has settled thick and heavy like a velvet blanket and he wraps himself in it.

Then it is dark again and he's herded back to his little glass box, modified so nicely to look like a room, but his mind's little sharp edges are returning, and his lip curls at the sight of it.

Then the lights dim, and he removes his day clothes like a well rehearsed theatre scene. He sits on the comfortable bed that had been made for him sometime during the day and he runs his hands over the soft blankets.

_Your name is Lalna_.

_Drink your potion_.

He looks at the rack of test tubes on the bedside table, so neat and pink and inviting. He picks one up and removed the stopper. It is cold and hot all at once, light and heavy, and the smell is as familiar as his own breathing. With the smallest twitch of his finger, the glass tube slips from his hand and shatters neatly on the floor.

The tiny explosion is like a release and he closes his eyes as the warmth of it spreads through him.

Soon, the doors will open. Then will come the impatient sighs and the curt little reminders. He'll drink his potion.

For now, no one has to remind him of his name.


	5. Don't Forget Me

A/N: This is kind of a prequel to I Fall Apart (chapter one in this collection) which I'm considering doing a little rewrite on before its sequel goes up. It was my first ever yogfic and I feel like Lalnable and Lalna have become something different in my fics now and I want to reflect that here. Anyway, in this fic, Lalna toys with the idea of Lalnable being inside him, explaining his future meltdown. Style kind of inspired by Jhonen Vasquez and HP Lovecraft, both of which I was reading while writing this.

Lalna was no simple man, not even on the best of days. His mind was never quiet, never relaxed, always searching, toiling, rutting in the filth of hypothesis and theory, never sure of anything when it really counted. Science was alive, in the most terrifying way, the basest way, down to its barest bones, discovery and destruction and damnation all driven by who, what, where and the always tormenting why. When the why was answered, the real work began, recreation, weaponization, innovation, always innovation like patting the head of a struggling child. Encouragement and an ambiguity of morals were the scientist's tool belt and bible. What else could there be for a man like him, filled with worldly desires for power, wealth, love, intimidation, everything he could think of and all of it beyond that? He would become magnetic north, drawing the needles of all the compasses in the world. Bring me your lost, your hungry, your poor and you're very fucking interesting. Bring me your dead and your diseased. Bring me your healthy and your vibrant. Let me take a long, lingering look around inside of them and let me send them home different, remade, enhanced.

This seed of arrogance had bloomed once before, deep in the labs of another complicated man-not a man at all really, not an Earth man anyway-and the cannibal with the funny name had sprung forth from the lab's womb like Haphaestus from Zeus' skull although Xephos didn't have Hera's presence of mind to throw this one down a mountain and cripple him.

Lalna's own shaky morals had prevented him from agreeing to the work done in Xephos' Brobdingnagian laboratory, and so Xephos had birthed his own replacement, removing the hang ups, the weaknesses.

In his folly, Xephos had created a devourer of men, a render of worlds, an animal with the power of eloquence that not even Lalna possessed, that chilling voice and perfect prose, all from one glaring lack of common human decency, the inability to at least feign sheepishness when caught with one's hands just a little too deep inside the bloodied cookie jar.

It occurred quite often to Lalna that this entity dwelled within him as well, waiting to be fed, nurtured, grown and birthed inside the dark expanses of Lalna's mind. Lalna was not evil, however. Sure he had destroyed the world, perhaps not so accidentally as he claimed, but who hadn't? Who hadn't stared hard into destruction and saw creation, like the blooming of an infernal flower? Sips and Sjin had eaten their world with red matter jaws and had gone laughing mad with the agonizing beauty of it's twisting chaos. Sjin was once so often the giggling little demon perched on Lalna's shoulder, driving his recklessness with prodding half-suggestions. With his old ear worm now reformed, Lalna had become his own Devil's advocate, his own sinister influence, a black undercurrent of morbid curiosity.

Still, there was nobility in it, the unchanging, undaunted sameness of him, no matter how the world and it's people orbited around him, Lalna would be Lalna, always, until he wasn't, until his single self would split into two or until the parasite that Xephos had given a name finally dragged itself free of the dark corner of Lalna's brain where it had fed on madness and fantasy and pushed its old host aside to finally realize it's true purpose in glorious hostile takeover. Until then, Lalna was eternal, unchanged by his own destructiveness, Nano's love, Rythian's hatred, Sjin's joy and Xephos' stoic, scientific fascination all filtered through the smoked glass of social interaction in a reptilian manner afforded only the most calculating.

True ascension was rushing at him like a train on melting tracks, no chance at reversing, no intention of slowing, like an open canyon yawning ever wider to swallow the stoic earth. Lalna played a game of denial, ignorance, innocence, the game of the dying and the hopeless, all balled up into a tentacled mass of writhing pain and confusion. He carried the dark mass within him like a man carries a gun, close to his body, secret but always within reach, should the need arise for aggressive mobilization. Perhaps the nameless, creeping evil could be tamed, harnessed, weaponized, like Sjin's raining arrows, like Rythian's dragon mistress, like Sips' red death, each more destructive than the last spinning in a hell-wind tornado. Only a madman would attempt the impossible, toy with an apocalypse, build the stage for his own execution, but each time Lalna set his overactive mind to summoning the demon within, he played with hell's hottest fires, drawing it into himself more and more each corrupted second.

He felt the barest chill of uneasiness when it began to speak, to answer his funny little mental barbs and his most subconscious impulses. It spurred him on like a wild man on a dying horse, faster and faster until he barely realized he'd been jamming the razor blade into his palm instead of shaving with it, and licking the blood away brought about a force that dragged his seizing mind through the most violent electrical arc, a power surging through him like the divine gift of some infernal god, and it was as addicting as it was horrifying. The creature crept closer; the serpent coiled tighter and the trap itched against its springs to snap shut and drive the scientist from his own fragmented mind. Ascension was upon him.


End file.
